Lament of Innocence
by Cerridwen Aerin Ellorin
Summary: Hmm...I have no idea how I would rate this, but...there are swearwords in here that may offend the faint of heart. You have been warned! The rise of Mundus' SON! And Dante gets a secretary named Frannie. AU-ish. RR PLEASE!


Lament of Innocence

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** No, this isn't a Castlevania game. Although I wish it was....sort of. ; Dante finds out that he isn't the only one who has gripes about his lineage. Ever wondered why the Devil May Cry agency's short of people...? Demons and hunters galore! 3 3 3 R/R PLEASE!

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own Devil May Cry and its characters. I wish I owned Dante, though...XD Some disturbing facts, figures, and terminologies are either lifted from the internet, several dictionaries, or are figments of my very rabid imagination. So no SUING!!!

-----------------------------------

"_...farewell goodnight last one turn out the lights_

_and let me be, let me die inside_

_let me know the way from of this world of hate in you_

_cause the dye is cast, and the bitch is back_

_and we're all dead yeah we're all dead_

_inside the future of a shattered past..._"

-© Smashing Pumpkins, "_Tales of a Scorched Earth_": "_Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness_"

--------------------------------------

---------------------------------------

Prologue

---------------------------------------

Dante was clutching his head from that dreadful hangover he was experiencing as he rummaged through the medicine cabinet in his private bath, cursing those who had been very generous in giving him those roundhouse pints.

"First person who greets me a very good morning I'll send straight to hell," he muttered as he glared at the bottles that were neatly arranged on its shelves. "Dammit, where's the aspirin?!"

The phone rang downstairs so suddenly Dante jerked and hit his head on the corner of the medicine cabinet, sending shockwaves to his already pain-addled brain. Grabbing the small bottle of aspirin he found on the top shelf, he threw a robe about him and thundered down the stairs, almost yanking the phone off the wall. "WHAT---?!" he growled.

"Cripes, you could do with a little pleasant tone in your voice, you know," Francesca Riscotti was saying at the other end of the line. "Not all faint-hearted women could take those otherwise enthusiastic morning greetings and STILL decide to go on as your secretary at the expense of their own lives."

"What does THAT make me, going on tea with Mussolini?! If I remember correctly, you were practically begging me for a job because you were already bored to tears doing prank calls to the Chinese Embassy," Dante retorted, popping an aspirin into his mouth. "I think they were about to summarily execute you when I volunteered to step in."

"Yeah, you as God's gift to womankind. I am ** VERY** touched."

"I told you I didn't come cheap." Dante then reached for the glass pitcher of water beside him and poured himself a glass. "Now what the hell's going on...?"

"Yeah, I was kind of hoping you'd get to that, chief. Anyway, there's not much to report except a couple of summary ghoul executions back to that 'Isle of the Damned' thingy, run-ins with some rather excitable specters off the Florida Keys, and...loads of other blahs. Business IS pretty lame at the moment."

"Damn, I was hoping I'd never hear from that shrill old lady again, but I guess I was wrong." Dante took a gulp of water. "Still the same old blahs...?"

"Yep, still the same." Francesca sighed. "Oh, and one other thing. There's this mysterious looking guy out front of the agency, and if looks could kill, I'd probably be prancing around River Styx by now. Sam reckons he's been glaring at the doorway for a full hour already."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be over in a sec." Dante put his glass down. "Don't do anything stupid, Frannie."

"As IF I could even do ANYTHING. And hell stop calling me Frannie."

"OK, Frannie. Later."

"**Shit stop calling me FRANNIE---!!!**"

Dante hung up. He went upstairs to his bedroom loft to change.

Yep, it was going to be one fine day.

**---------------------------**

Dante now took to staring at the guy across the street facing his agency. Whoa, Francesca sure wasn't kidding.

Except the guy's glare shifted from the doorway and he now glared at HIM.

What the hell?!

The door opened and his secretary soon popped out her head to look at him. "Hey, chief, have you been staring at him THAT long as WELL?"

"What's that idiot's problem?"

"I really have NO idea, but he really gives me the CREEPS," Francesca said with a shudder, her blue eyes wide underneath those square-rimmed glasses. "Sam tried talking to him some 30 minutes ago except he made a quick getaway to that alley by the fishmonger's 2 blocks off. Then he's been glaring at us ever since."

"Have you tried calling the cops or something?"

"Geez, chief, do you really think a couple of cops would be able to stop him? From the aura he's emanating, I'd say he'd vaporize them in an instant." Francesca nodded. "I think he's a frigging sociopsychopath."

"Christ." Dante looked over at his secretary. "Yeah, let me handle him. Go buy me a couple of donuts or something."

"With that 2 gallon coffee jug?"

"Yeah, yeah. Don't forget, make it BLACK."

"Sure thing, chief."

Francesca went inside the agency and took to raising the antique phone off its hook by the table. Dante then went towards the mysterious guy, intent on giving him a kick if he still wouldn't stop glaring.

"You want something...?" Dante asked him.

The guy still kept on glaring at him.

"Look, mister, I'd really appreciate it if you stop glaring at me and tell me if you have any problems whatsoever...and if you don't, you could like, go disappear. You're scaring the hell out of my customers, and what I REALLY don't need right now is a lame day, as I'm having a REAL bad day as it is ALREADY." Dante gestured down the street. "So, if there's nothing ELSE you want to say, I suggest you take a hike before I blow your brains out right here, and I don't care even if there're a couple of Buddhist monks crossing the street. Get my drift?"

"_Lumen Crucis ..._?"

Dante frowned. "EXCUSE me?"

"Oh for heavens' sakes. It's really hard to find good help nowadays..." The guy squinted over at Dante. "Is this _Lumen Crucis_...?"

"What the HELL is THAT?!"

"Fine demon hunters since the 12th century."

Dante could feel his forehead throb. "Listen, mister, can't you READ that sign over THERE?! In case it proves too much for your eyesight, it explicitly states the phrase the 'Devil May Cry Agency'. If you're looking for that crucible whatever agency, go look for that someplace ELSE."

"Agency?"

"DAMMIT!" Dante held his head and was now glaring at the guy. "I have a hangover right now, and I would REALLY appreciate it if you just ask someone ELSE your stupid questions and get the hell out of my agency perimeters. OK?! Clear enough for YOU?!"

The guy blinked, then got a small piece of paper from within his robes. He looked up at Dante. "Well, I guess I'd settle for your agency, mister. You see, my granddaughter's been missing."

Dante's head now felt like it was ready to explode any moment now. "In case you haven't NOTICED, mister, I run a gun-for-hire business involving demons and other fiends from the underworld, and certainly NOT a private investigator agency. I'm afraid I can't help you with that." He turned to walk away. "Now if you'll excuse ME---"

"But you can help me!" the guy said, chasing after him. "My granddaughter's name is Dr. Annette Browning, she's about 5'6" in height, blond hair, blue eyes, wears glasses---"

"Try telling that to the cops now, would you?! As I've said, I can't help you with THAT---"

"I've been to 5 different police stations and none of them couldn't help me! Please! Annette's been missing for 7 months already---"

"Try the FBI." Dante reached out to push the door of the Devil May Cry agency open. "Now if you'll excuse me, I STILL have other work to do---"

"She's been part of the Sheol Project...and...ever since she discovered the End Energy, her bosses determined it would be best if she disappeared...and...please listen to ME---!!! **My granddaughter discovered a way to summon the Devil REALM---!!!**"

Dante stopped. He looked over at his pursuer. "Devil Realm...?"

"Try telling that to a bunch of cops...who'd believe me, trying to tell them that my granddaughter could summon DEMONS?! It's a good thing they haven't pushed me into the loony bin yet---"

Dante pushed the door open. "Come in and we'll talk about it."

**----------------------------------**

"Sheol Project...yeah, that has a pretty sinister sound to it alright," Francesca was saying a little while later as she dumped all the files she could find on the subject matter. "Headed by Dr. Klaus Schoennberg, this top top secret project by the American military is trying to look into other supernatural means in order to topple all its military rivals all over the world...gain the upper hand, so to speak. Using demons for deadly armaments. The discovery of the End Energy by brilliant paranormal scientist Dr. Annette Browning ensured this rather surreal victory." Francesca pushed her mousy brown hair out of her eyes. "Yeah, it's starting to sound like a really horrible B-type take-over-the-world flick...so there."

"How exactly is End Energy created?" Dante asked.

"You know the Kabbala, right, chief? It's something like drawing power from God's left side...which is...the 10 Unholy Sephiroth...and...channeling it through its opposites...the 10 Holy Sephiroth...therefore killing them, bringing their radiance and darkness to end, and...create a gateway. End Energy, the end of light and darkness, equals gateway to the Devil Realm, an end in itself." Francesca nodded. "Disruption of balance equals utter mayhem. And...so it goes."

"..." Dante frowned. "Can't they think of anything ELSE to do?"

"Paul Browning, by the way." Paul Browning looked over at Dante. "As you probably noticed, Mr. Dante, the American military has enough means as to hunt for their own deadly weapons, so to speak. They've been bored with toying around with nuclear energy since the dawn of the Cold War, and are looking for other means to up-ass the others. Now they've turned to the Kabbala."

"What fine doomsday prophets they're going to BE." Dante looked over at Mr. Browning. "Could you tell us exactly how this Sheol Project came about?"

"They were brainstorming for alternate means of bringing down world terror 3 years ago. Since terrorists were able to replicate everything they knew into their own terrible versions of mini Armageddons, they've decided to turn to the mystic side of things, which they were so sure nobody else has the means in order to bring about the use of such dark tactics, and...the Sheol Project was born. It was a high-risk project...they certainly wouldn't want to be called as Satanists because they were thinking of bringing down the devils from the Devil Realm...and it would totally blow their cover...so they took extra pains in revealing their operations. Even the President was unaware of this. They searched the entire world for...demonologists, or whatever they were called...then a bunch of Kabbalists...it helped when they uncovered the Book of the Dead from that monastery in Naples...soon they were researching on several means in which to bring the Devil Realm to this plane and catch themselves a demon as those kids would with Pokemon...it was hard, to say the least, the Book of the Dead wasn't to be so easily given up freely...am I making sense...? Anyway, the Book of the Dead was owned by a certain Heindrich Faust...yes, THE Faust who sold his soul to the Devil...it was left to them, his heirs, on which was written several secrets of Hell. Hell as in, how the heck one would be able to summon demons, all that crap. There had been rumors that it also held secrets in how to tame demons and use them as you would with lackeys...so...where was I...? Oh, right...so, they underwent negotiations with the Faust family, a little bit of money was exchanged, and...the Book of the Dead was soon theirs. Took Annette a good 2 years unlocking that End Principle in the book...it was written that there was human sacrifice involved in such rituals in order to bring about the said portal, but...well, Annette didn't want any blood spilled, so...she did a little bit of inverting Raziel Trees here and there...and created a key, and End Energy was the result. On the test drive, no less than 5 scientists were killed. 3 more scientists were killed before Annette was able to stop the End Energy from growing. It was living energy, to say the least, and needed human life force in order to be able to sustain itself, and...suffice it to say, Annette wanted out. Unfortunately, the American military can't afford to let my granddaughter on the loose, after what happened, so...it's safe to think they kidnapped her, or even sent her into the Devil Realm...whatever the case, she's been missing for the last 7 months."

Francesca poured Dante and Mr. Browning some coffee, and distributed it along with the donuts. Dante bit into a cinnamon twist. "You haven't heard from her since."

"Yes, disappeared for 7 months as she was, and...I was trying to contact her, look for her...it was as if she vanished into thin air. I don't know what to tell Sidney anymore."

"Sidney?"

"Her 7 year-old daughter." Mr. Browning took a sip of his coffee. "But I reckon she knows what's going on right now, she sure took after her mom's inquisitiveness, and she's as bit as precocious as Annette was at her age."

Francesca leaned back slightly against the desk, holding her own Barney mug of coffee. "Well, in that case, Mr. Browning, there's not much to tell. If, as you say, the kid's as bright as her mom."

Dante took a small sip of his own coffee. "So basically, Mr. Browning, you're hiring me to look for your granddaughter, who might or might not be kidnapped and thrown into the Devil Realm out of whim just to shut her up, am I correct?"

"Yes."

"You might as well be aware that my hiring fee is as bit as ridiculously high as the Eiffel Tower, Mr. Browning? I am not just about to traipse into the Devil Realm like some playground monitor out to find a lost kindergarten kid on a field trip."

"I'm definitely aware of that fact, Mr. Dante, and I assure you, I could pay you off just fine."

"Agreed." Dante set down his mug then stood up. "I'll have your granddaughter as soonest as possible. Tell Sidney to be ready for a bedtime story anytime soon."

"Yes...thank you, Mr. Dante! I really appreciate it---"

"Just one other thing, Mr. Browning, cut the 'Mr.' and just call me Dante. Fair enough?"

Mr. Browning nodded.

**---------------------------**

"I CAN'T believe you just picked that job like you're running some sort of charity," Francesca was saying as she took to crossing out the little business dealings her boss was up for the next few days or so. "Here we are, practically trying to make the BEST out of those blahs those idiots keep throwing at us, and STILL you considered that particular job above everything else---"

"On the contrary, Frannie, it's the best damn blah of the whole lot, and besides, I think I should be using those flyer miles or something," Dante replied, checking the inbox in his e-mail account.

"And how many times should I HAVE to tell you that you-stop-calling-me-by-that-goddam-NAME---"

"Suits you just fine."

"You KNOW, I THINK I should've done what I SHOULD'VE done a LONG time ago and just walk out on you."

"The door's wide open, Frannie, nobody's stopping you."

"Oh for CHRISSAKES---"

"Who the hell gives out these frigging spam letters anyway...?! I'm NOT interested in joining a UFO society, a comic book collectors' club, or a culture-field trip going to Kota Kinabalu," Dante muttered ominously as he clicked on the aforementioned letters with the murderous air of Jack the Ripper going through his fan mail. "**And shit I don't do PSYCHIC LOVE READINGS---!!!**"

"Do take note, chief, that your iMac's going to get nuked any day now," Francesca growled ominously as she crossed out the last business deal on her list.

"Am I not to have any peace around here?"

"You can have ALL the peace you want when you're dead chief, and I'll be the one who'll make SURE you GET IT---!!!"

"Yeah, whatever." Dante took one last look at all the spam letters he's about to delete into the trash bin, checked all of the items, and clicked on the "Delete" button at the button of the screen. "Do me a favor, Frannie, and go drown yourself in the coffeemaker. It'd be less conspicuous that way."

"What the hell was that supposed to MEAN---"

"Excuse me? Devil May Cry Agency?" a pimply faced boy asked uncertainly, poking his head in the doorway of the inner office. Dante shifted his attention back to what he was doing, and Francesca turned to him with a big smile plastered on her face. "Yes, Devil May Cry Agency, how may we help you?"

"Um..." The boy then put an oyster-colored envelope on top of Francesca's desk, holding out some papers. "First class mail...it was really weird, ma'am, but you have to sign..."

"Where should I sign it...?"

"Over there, atop that dotted line..."

There was a faint scribbling as Francesca signed her name with a flourish and the boy was out in a flash. She perused the envelope, then chucked it into her boss's desk with the air of a very suave Frisbee _connoisseur_.

"Hate mail from hell, I guess."

Dante picked it up casually, then stared at it. "From whom was it from?"

"No return address, but there's a really dinky looking wax seal impression in front of it. First class mail, as that kid told me a while ago...genuine Crane, that paper."

Dante then looked at the wax seal impression up front. It was unmistakable.

"Ever been to a Hellfire Club dinner before...?" he asked slowly.

Francesca's shocked silence was answer enough.

**-------------------------------**

Dante was a bit nervous as he alighted from the Ferrari he managed to steal from its proper place at his garage...damn, Francesca was MORE concerned about the car rather than the person who was behind the wheel driving it...but...well, if he had to come to this dinner looking at least halfway decent, then his Ferrari would have to roll. It pained him at how much it took just to be able to get that right shine in all the right places and the roads those $2,500 wheels would have to endure just to get to the hotel in time. Not just any hotel, mind you. The Waldorf Astoria.

Still, Dante knew he made a little bit more money ever since those jobs came rolling in by the dozens several months ago and he decided that he was going to spend his new affluence in style. Besides, if he wants to get those big time jobs, he should at LEAST look like he could afford to attend such hunter functions without looking like somebody's discarded carpet bag. And yes, Mr. Browning did tell him that his granddaughter wrote him a letter 3 days before she disappeared that the Sheol Project was funded by this very powerful and very exclusive club. Not that Francesca would need to know...Dante decided that his secretary had known enough of the underworld to get her a one-way ticket to hell...pun intended. It's about time he went to work.

Now how many of those American top brass generals play puppets to these influential hoodlums in Burberry suits? Or are part of this very exclusive clique, wielding as much power as that of the President of the United States, himself?

He was just about to find out.

The valet politely asked him for his car keys so that he could park his car at the VIP section reserved for the guests of this very prestigious event, and Dante gave it to him without another word. Then, taking one last look at the surrounding landscape, Dante went in with a small flutter of his trench coat.

The party was already in full swing when he arrived, and Dante was so sorry he didn't bring any shades. One could walk into that ballroom and be struck blind by all those glinting asteroid-sized jewels everywhere, not to mention struck deaf from the babble of different languages talking at once, and struck dumb by all those ladies' perfumes congregating in one malodorous mass that seemed to hang in the stiff and stuffy room made tighter by some rather inflated egos. Dante was surprised. It didn't take a jetsetter to know that almost all of New York's elite diplomat corps were here, along with their wives: a mini United Nations, if you may, and judging from what the others were all wearing, he surmised that some of them were CEOs of top corporations around the world...delegates of the imperialist powers, as one activist would say. Surely, he wasn't lost in a _vin d' honneur_ or something...?

A couple of _maitre d'_s were going around serving _canapes_ and champagne, and Dante helped himself to some as he checked out the crowd. He spotted a group of people at the other end of the room, who looked miserable and bewildered at such a high-end function wearing their own proper hunter garb, and feeling more and more stupid by the passing minute. Relieved that he had somehow found some unlikely allies at last, Dante made his way towards them.

"I think those idiots just dragged us here so they could show us up for being the uncouth, savage barbarians we are," one of them muttered ominously just as Dante stealthily made his way through the thick CEO-diplomat crowd, casually eating on a _canape_ and sipping at his champagne. "I mean, look at THEM! I bet they're talking about us, now."

"Will you quit that, Eric, it's been bad having those bouncers almost run us all up to Central Park," his companion said gloomily. "I'll probably be having nightmares for the rest of my life after this."

"Forget those morons, how about making us feel so out of place for the last 3 HOURS?"

"If it weren't for the money, I'd probably still be hacking it out in Rune Midgard...dammit, our Agit's been on every Guild's death list these past few weeks..."

"And who the HELL invited those freaks over, what's a hunter function to THEM?!"

Dante turned to look at what one of those hunters were talking about. Sure enough, he saw a couple of not-so-inconspicuously dressed men from the Pentagon trying so unsuccessfully to blend in the crowd at the other end of the room, some of them looking nervously over their shoulders every now and then.

"Either they're here to investigate, or here to rub elbows with the rich and infamously famous," still another commented snidely.

"A conspiracy...?"

"Ever since that tragic Sheol Project experiment, Uncle Sam's boy toys have been a little too flighty lately..."

"Bunch of scientists gone missing..."

"And the Vatican's breathing down their necks. I can't think of anybody else who'd be onto this case like a bloodhound except for those church watchdogs..."

"Those _Crucis_ freaks...? Yeah, VERY likely..."

"See, here come some of them now..."

Dante blinked. He saw a group of people come in through the entrance to the gathering, clad in white cloaks over their khaki and gray uniforms that called to mind the late 1930's avid explorer/archaeologist. All of them had similar themes in their clothing, and wore curious red bands of cloth on which were embroidered the insignia of their affiliation: a double cross over a stylized olive tree, with 10 tiny gold stars atop each naked branch. Some of them wore these bands of cloth about their forehead, still others bound it about their left shoulders, others made it into belts, or wrist protectors. A gold key and a silver key were embroidered on each end of the cloak, interspersed as it was with curious stylized Hebrew writing on each side. All of them brandished guns of all sorts.

"The _Lumen Crucis_ Society," a voice came from Dante's right. "The Vatican sure wants this purging totally complete."

Dante looked over to his right. An old hunter with a prominent scar over his right eye was nodding over at the newcomers. "Best to stay out of their way if I were you, son. They're ruthless bloodstained prophets, if ever there were such. Takes care of heaven's 'dirty little secrets', so to speak."

"..." Dante was quiet. "What sort of demon hunters are they...?"

"Oh, they're predators, whole bloody lot of them. You wouldn't want to be their target practice. They purge all demons in the name of sanctifying this world in preparation for the second Jerusalem. Or so they say."

"All..."

"They're just not ordinary hunters, mind you...they weren't just accepted into the society just because they could shoot a gun. They're specially trained for underworld combat, in all sorts of weapons and hand to hand. And...they're a bunch of super psychos. Some of them could even maim a 35 foot devil from 500 meters away through use of mind power alone. Oh...and did I mention that most of the society members come from old noble families...?"

"Noble families..."

"Families whose young lords joined the Crusades a long time ago. Most of them are instituted into those other knightly orders, Hospitalers, Templars..." the old man drifted off. He then blinked (his good eye, anyway) and looked over at Dante. "Oh, please excuse me for blabbering. It's a really awful habit of mine, and it's gotten me into trouble one time too many already. And you are?"

"Dante," Dante replied.

"Are you related to Virgil, by any chance...?"

Dante stiffened, then looked sharply at the old man. "Excuse me...?"

"Virgil, Virgil, I surmised your mother must have named you after Durante Alighieri, Dante Alighieri...you know, the one who wrote the _Divine Comedy_...? Virgil was the name of his mentor, if my world literature mental notes serve me right...oh well, it was a long time ago, anyway." The old man nodded. "My name's Alastor Whitcliff. Guess my joke fell flat."

"..."

"Sorry. See...? That's why I **ALWAYS** get into trouble." The old man looked forward again, then nodded. "Those Hellfire simpletons are about to declaim. Should we get going?"

**-------------------------**

"Our most distinguished guests...members of the diplomatic community and the business community...esteemed hunters...welcome, and a very good evening to you all. I trust all your _canapes_ and bubbly were most satisfactory...?" a young man with longish white blond hair and a dark blue suit was saying, as he stood in the makeshift platform in the middle of the room. He wore a face mask to conceal his identity.

Several of the guests nodded, and some laughed lightly and raised their wine glasses to him most graciously.

"Ah...very well. It is nice to see that all of your needs were met, and as I was saying...welcome, welcome, it's been such a long time since we saw each other last in this fashion. Well...my comrades and I have been VERY busy lately, what with such very exciting business deals one way or the other. We are glad to be part of this country's very dynamic business and economic 'machinery', as it's such a pleasure to be able to work with some of the world's best minds in doing such dealings."

Scattered applause.

"Thank you, thank you. I, for one, was very anxious as those invitations were given out on such notice, without proper breathing space, so to speak, and you are all honoring this gathering with your presence as your continued support for our endeavors...yours and ours. But, before we all sit down to such a hearty dinner, I would like to take this opportunity to acknowledge the presence of the delegates of the _Lumen Crucis_ Society to our humble gathering, all the way from Rome...led by Lord Aidan Surringale."

There were scattered whispers as a young man with flowing auburn hair and silver eyes strode forward to announce his presence. Several hunters muttered ominously to themselves.

"Dammit, we're not going to have ANY fun at this rate..."

"Who invited them along, anyway...?"

"Inviting **THEMSELVES** along, more likely!"

"?" Dante looked at his fellow hunters quizzically.

"Thank you, Lord Surringale, that was most kind of you...where was I...oh yes! Of course, this gathering wouldn't be made possible without the presence of the top hunters from around the world...for this wouldn't be properly called a Hunt if these people wouldn't be able to make themselves physically available tonight. There is reason to get cocky...not all hunters were given a chance to be able to grace this prestigious event, and that means that you were all given those invitations because we feel that you have the necessary qualifications we are looking for in preparation for our special highlight for tonight. That means...you are representing the top 20 hunters that would prove themselves in securing the top plum for tonight. And that IS...securing the Zohar from Mundus' Keep."

"!!!" Dante's eyes became wide.

"Zohar?!" Now several hunters took notice. "Shit, I never DREAMED that thing was even true..."

"..." Aidan Surringale's silver eyes narrowed. Dante noticed that some of his other companions started muttering ominously.

"And of course, the hunter who would secure the Zohar would be assured of fame and fortune beyond his wildest dreams. It is almost tantamount to discovering the Holy Grail itself, this Zohar. I trust all of you would give all you've got in this Hunt, as there are others who are willing to bet on each and every one of you...you all have a hefty sum on your heads, even just this once. I sure hope you don't disappoint them that much."

There were several excited whispers, and the leader of the _Lumen Crucis_ strode forward again, his aura becoming rather forbidding.

"Excuse ME." Surringale was frowning. "Don't expect me to believe that the Zohar indeed is right inside that very abomination...? And even if it is, it is not just a frivolous prize to fight OVER..."

"That is why I've invited you all to this banquet, knowing full well that your boss would definitely grab at this chance to regain that relic. And...become police force, of course...if things get a little too BLOODY." Dante couldn't see his face, but he was most certain that he must be giving all of them a small smile. "Well. Enough of business and let's all sit down to dinner, shall we...?"

"On the contrary." A series of footsteps echoed through the silent hall. "Who told you ONLY you would have all the FUN?"

The guests looked at each other quizzically, very confused. At which point one of them pointed up to the second floor balcony and all of them turned to see who it was.

A tall man with pale skin, deep gray hair and almost translucent amber eyes was standing there, garbed in a full black robe festooned with many interspersing straps and silver chains. There was a huge key-shaped box of some sort behind him, bound by many thick chains, as well.

The masked young man appeared to be shocked, as well as the other masked people about him on the makeshift stage. "You---!"

"Me." The man laughed lightly. "You're quite forgetting yourself, aren't we. Didn't we agree on the deal that those _Crucis_ brats are for mine pleasure ONLY? Well, I guess I could forgive you. There are lots of other souls to prey upon, anyway, and it's about time I should be going back to where I REALLY belong to. Not awakened in this god-forsaken little world and be made to do...well...EVIL lackey things."

"Who the HELL is that PANSY---?!" one of the hunters called out exasperatingly. The man gave an angelic little smile. "Why don't you ask your sponsors about it? I'm sure they've got LOADS to tell you." He lifted a hand. "But then again...you wouldn't be able to ask them if you're all DEAD now, would you?"

He clenched his fist. About 1/3 of the guests inside the room uttered bloodcurdling screams and fell dead to the floor, splattering blood on the shiny marble flooring. The other guests saw what happened and fled screaming to the exits themselves.

"You had one very glaring flaw in trying to summon the Devil Realm from where it it, although I must say I'm quite impressed with how that mortal woman was able to break that code in that dirty little book...that is, when you can't locate those Sephiroth, you could make do with these screaming little pigs," the man said casually as he swipes his fist and another 1/3 of them fell dead to the floor. His smile became even more angelic. "Didn't your theological teachings tell you about man being created somewhat in the image of your God? And in effect, each and every one of you is affected by these Sephirothic tendencies of both radiance and darkness, and there is a balance between these 2. It's a virtual goldmine, I tell you. Now are you still wondering why those cultists ENJOY doing these 'senseless' human sacrifices...?"

People died one after another, splattering blood like there's no tomorrow, as if Apollyon himself paid a visit to this particular dinner. The man took a short formal bow. "Well, if there's nothing else left for you to say, then I guess I better be leaving. My name's Tilmuth, by the way. And I still have to ready my father's Legion. Now if you'll excuse me..."

A black pentagram appeared beneath the entire floor where the corpses were piled haphazardly against one another like grotesque rag dolls. As the other hunters and Dante watched horrified, an orb of pulsating black, purple, scarlet, and gold light appeared in the very middle and started growing at an alarmingly high rate, feeding upon the carnage.

Surringale then shot his pistol into the air, to which the white sigil of the Star of David appeared and contained the growth of the pulsating orb of light, which stopped at Dante's feet with only a hair to spare. Tilmuth saw this and frowned.

"It would take more than THAT to contain the Devil Realm, dear little _Crucis_ brat. But this is not the time nor place to talk of such matters as I'm on a hurry. And so I must destroy that abominable Zohar so that the Devil Realm would be loose of its 'bind'." So saying, the demon jumped lightly from his perch and entered the black orb of light. Several hunters became quiet for a while, to which Surringale turned to glare at them.

"What are you still doing, standing there...?! There isn't much TIME---! Find the Zohar before he destroys it...or else the Devil Realm's hold on this plane would be absolute! Do you understand?! I could only do so much by containing this gateway and preventing it from growing out much further, and those Lich aren't going to make things any EASIER for all of us!"

One of the hunters yelled. Dante quickly turned and was surprised to see that the corpses had become alive again, their eyes blank and white and were smiling empty, carrion smiles...the smiles of death.

"What the HELL are these THINGS---?!"

"They couldn't be---"

"We can't do anything about them NOW just GO---!!!" Surringale yelled. Some hunters shot other Lich out of the way but they still kept on coming. A woman with long fiery hair shot one point blank with her Colt Python, and the unfortunate Lich in question dissipated into thin air.

She looks over at the rest of them. "Surringale and I would handle these Lich, you go on ahead and nail that demon before he summons his father's Legion and destroy Zohar. Asagiri...Mullden...Reichstadt...Herrault! Go assist them every which way you can!"

"Yes!"

The hunters exchanged dubious looks before jumping into the orb of light. The other _Crucis_ members the woman mentioned followed suit.

Dante looked over at the remaining _Crucis_ members. The fiery haired woman was now shooting her way to where the Hellfire Club members cowered in one corner. One of them was looking at him with blinking, deep brown eyes. A young girl...

"And that ALSO includes you, son of Sparda," Alastor Whitcliff was saying. He grabbed Dante by the back of his trench coat and tossed him into the orb of light. "If there's one person who'll be able to do just THAT, it's you, Dante."

Dante fell inside the void before he could say another word.

**--------------------------------**

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** VERY long prologue. Who the hell is Alastor WHITCLIFF?!


End file.
